PS 3543 
157 W5 
1922 
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GF YOUlJi^ER POETS 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE. 

The Yale Series of Younger Poets is designed to afford a publishing 
medium for the work of young men and women who have not yet 
secured a wide public recognition. It will include only such verse as 
seems to give the fairest promise for the future of American poetry > — 
to the development of which it is hoped that the Series may prove a 
stimulus. Communications concerning manuscripts should be addressed 
to the Editor, Professor Charlton M. Lewis, 425 St. Ronan Street, 
New Haven, Connecticut. 

VOLUMES ISSUED, OR PLANNED FOR 
EARLY PUBLICATION 
I. The Tempering. By Howard Buck. 
II. Forgotten Shrines. By John Chipman Farrar. 

III. Four Gardens. By David Osborne Hamilton. 

IV. Spires and Poplars. By Alfred Raymond Bellinger. 
V. The White God and Other Poems. By Thomas Gal- 

decot Chubb. 
VI. Where Lilith Dances. By Dart Macleod Boyle. 
VII. Wild Geese. By Theodore H. Banks, Jr. 
VIII. Horizons. By Viola C. White. 
IX. Wampum and Old Gold. By Hervey Allen. 
X. The Golden Darkness. By Oscar Williams. 
XI. White April. By Harold Vinal. 
XII. Dreams and a Sword. By Medora C. Addison. 



White April 



HAROLD VINAL 




P^^^^ 



NEW HAVEN • YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS 

LONDON • HUMPHREY MILFORD • OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 

MDCCCCXXII 



^'^'^..o 






COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS 



\m 24 1922 
©CIA659332 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. 

THE Author wishes to thank the editors of Poetry, Con- 
temporary Verse, The Sonnet, The Atlantic Monthly, 
The Liberator, The Bookman, The Lyric, The Pagan, Pear- 
son s. Tempo, The Grinnell Review, Everybody's, New Num- 
bers, The Springfield Republican, and The Pansienne for the 
privilege of reprinting many of the following poems. 



TO MOTHER 



CONTENTS. 

Part I. Golden Windows. 



My Own . 

Candle 












13 
14 


To Persephone 
Window . 












15 
16 


Tokens 












16 


.^'Forgotten . 












17 


Query 

Deborah Speaks 
Lesbia Sewing 












17 
18 
18 


Part IL Sonnets for Weeping. 


Late and Soon . . . . . . .21 


Invocation 










21 


Earth Lover 










22 


After Dusk 










22 


Year's Ending . 










23 


Autumn Afternoon 










23 


Evanescence 










24 


Pity 

Earth Memory . 


• 








24 

25 


Part IIL Of Mariners. 


Sea Longing 
Exiled 










29 
29 


Of Mariners 


. . 








30 


Old Ships . 
Little Song 










30 
31 


The Sea Remembers 










31 


Rumors 










32 


Let Me Lie 










32 


Part IV. White Glamour. 


You Came to Me ...... 35 


The House of Dust 








35 


y" The Nights Remember 








36 


Unbound .... 








36 


Talisman . 












37 



Little Death 


37 


Rosemary . 


38 


Moonlight Magic 


^ 38 


Vision 


39 


Song of Young Love ...... 39 


\RT V. Overtones. 


Buried 


43 


Glimpses . 


43 


Pastoral 


44 


Death Comes 


44 


Old Things 


45 


Music Tides 


45 


Surety 


46 


Miser 


46 



10 



PART I. 
GOLDEN WINDOWS. 



MY OWN. 

OI must answer to a name 
And live upon a certain street, 
And stairs within a dingy house 
Must bear the burden of my feet. 

Still, when the night is dim and sweet, 
In dreams I roam the silent hills, 

Where aisles of shadow, vague with light, 
Are petalled soft with daffodils. 

I foot it through the silver dark, 
I shout aloud to field and tree 

And all this gipsy heart of me 
Is, longing, longing to be free. 

O I must answer to a name 
And live upon a certain street, 

But who shall take my dreams from me 
Or keep my life from being sweet *? 



13 



CANDLE. 

I WILL light my candle 
Before night comes on, 
A room is a dreary place 
And forlorn. 

I will light the tiny flame 
So it sputter brightly, 

For ghosts of lonely things 
Trouble me nightly. 

I will shut my ears 

Lest I hear again 
Wind crying in the hall, 

Rain on the pane. 

I will light my candle 
Before night comes on, 

A room is a dreary place — 
Now love has gone. 



H 



TO PERSEPHONE. 

No more you weave, Persephone, 
Gowns the colors of the sea. 

Your ivory fingers now are still 
And your grave a grassy hill. 

But everywhere songs are sung 
They sing of you who died so young. 

And lads and lassies passing by 
Place bergamot where you lie. 

No more you weave, Persephone, 
Gowns the colors of the sea. 

Emerald, chrysoprase and blue 
That looked beautiful on you. 

But everywhere songs are sung 
They sing of you who died so young. 



WINDOW. 

FROM my window I see 
Tall trees in a row, 
Rhododendron and phlox, 
Spicy things that blow. 

All of beauty there 

Through four little panes, 
Clumps of columbine 

Wet with the rains. 

Through my window I see 

Life pass by me — 
Colin and Christopher, 

Rose and Charity. 



TOKENS. 

IN memory of this and that 
I'll wear a starry hood 
And set a bowl upon the stoop 
. And light the wood. 

In memory of laughter 

I'll dance no more 
But hide my gown and feathers 

Behind a dark door. 

In memory of sorrow 
I'll take them out again 

And put a ribbon in my hair 
And dance down a lane. 



16 



FORGOTTEN. 

How can I remember 
Autumn and pain, 
When trees hold dreams 
In their arms again*? 

How can my heart break 

Till it cries ^ 
The joy of summer 

Has made me wise. 

I can't remember 
What hurt me so — 

Autumn and winter 
Were so long ago. 



QUERY. 

I AM bound by twilight, 
I am chained by snow, 
I am held a captive 

To the winds that blow. 

But the careless people 
Laugh as they go by 

Blind to all the wonder 
Of the earth and sky ; 

Deaf to all the music 

Falling over me ; 
Is it they are captive — 

And that I am free ^ 



17 



DEBORAH SPEAKS. 

THE candles I keep burning 
Above the door 
Are in memory of those 
Who pass no more. 

Faith and Caroline, 

Rose and Margaret, 
I light candles there 

Lest the heart forget. 

I keep candles flaming 
Lest, when Strephon call, 

I forget that they 
Ever lived at all. 



LESBIA SEWING. 

STITCHES over and over 
So the heart won't break. 
Thrust the needle under 
For sorrow's sake. 

Stitches over and over 
Till the pattern's set. 

Thrust the needle under 
So the heart forget. 

Stitches over and over, 

Needle hurry fast, 
Till the love of beauty 

Fall from me at last. 



18 



PART 11. 
SONNETS FOR WEEPING. 



LATE AND SOON. 

I AM SO near to grief I needs must weep 
For little places fair as Camelot, 
For dusty inns and gardens long forgot, 
They haunt me ever so I cannot sleep. 
I am the slave of beauty late and soon, 
Of apricots blown into silver rain. 
Held close to tears by many a shining lane 
Where ghostly birds call wildly to the moon. 
Is there at last an ending to it all. 
An end of petals blown against my face. 
Can I not hide myself behind a wall 
And forget beauty for a little space. 
Forget all passion that I ever knew — 
Old beauty gone and you and you and you *? 



INVOCATION. 

I THOUGHT that beauty was forever dead, 
Until I saw a daffodil abloom 
And two bright tulips in my garden bed 
And silver spills beyond my little room. 
I thought that grief would never go from me, 
Yet now how wonderful are all the days, 
I am no longer hurt by misery 
But wild with joy and tremulous with praise. 

God, let not too many white stars fall. 
Nor let your bushes bloom in one small hour, 

1 could not bear the beauty of it all. 

For I would pause with awe before each flower 
And touch each blossom with my finger-tips 
And feel the wind's first sweetness on my lips. 



21 



EARTH LOVER. 

OLD loveliness has such a way with me, 
That I am close to tears when petals fall 
And needs must hide my face against a wall, 
When autumn trees burn red with ecstasy. 
For I am haunted by a hundred things 
And more that I have seen in April days ; 
I have held stars above my head in praise, 
I have worn beauty as two costly rings. 
Alas, how short a state does beauty keep. 
Then let me clasp it wildly to my heart 
And hurt myself until I am a part 
Of all its rapture, then turn back to sleep. 
Remembering through all the dusty years 
What sudden wonder brought me close to tears. 



AFTER DUSK. 

BY day no singing beauty wakes in me ; 
My soul is silent as a silver dell, 
Where voiceless winds speak only of farewell 
And cloistered flowers dwell in secrecy. 
Shaken with woe I hide against my heart 
Sweetness and loveliness and meadowed rain 
And swallow-beauty May has brought again; 
Dream-still they lie alone, untouched, apart. 
But when day undesired falls asleep, 
Dreaming on hills where shaking stars look down, 
I roam cool-misted vales beyond the town. 
And cry my love of beauty till I weep. 
The glowing trees, so faint that no one hears. 
Drop veils of shadow down to hide my tears. 



22 



YEAR'S ENDING. 

OI could weep my heart out, late and soon, 
For dear and lovely things I would forget : 
A blur of silver spills that burned at noon, 
A clump of daffodils and mignonette, 
Aprils remembered that come back no more 
To haunt my gardens where the tulips bloom 
And banished summers flaming at my door, 
When haunted moonlight streamed into my room. 
At times the thought of so much loveliness 
Drops from me strangely, like the end of grief, 
Then suddenly I feel the wind's caress. 
Or a wild tree lets fall a lyric leaf. 
The thought of you drifts from an ancient spring- 
And I near weep again remembering. 



AUTUMN AFTERNOON. 

OLD loveliness returned this afternoon 
To break my heart and make me weep aloud ; 
I had forgotten autumn came so soon. 
With blur of golden leaf and jewelled cloud. 
Here once wild, scarlet tulips used to blow 
And daffodils wave lightly in the spring 
And lovely spicewood bushes burn and glow 
And April trees spill April blossoming. 
Now the last birds go winging down the air 
And children's laughter and a scrap of song 
Blown from a shivering pipe ; Nothing lasts long. 
Not even April that was once so fair. 
O how it hurts to see the wild trees thinned 
And spring's dear beauty falling in the wind. 



23 



EVANESCENCE. 

SLOWLY I pass among the blowing flowers 
Catching my breath at their beauty as I go ; 
Familiar sweetness drifts across the hours, 
Keen, lovely sweetness, intimate as woe. 
Yet by to-morrow all the roses blown 
Will be a sea of crimson on the grass. 
And the naked trees will shudder at the moan 
Of glowing winds that wake them as they pass. 
In such wise, love will vanish as the night, 
Each word of joy that you have sung to me 
The years will silence with their dark delight. 
And the wild soaring after ecstasy 
Will be a lyric bird that dares the sky — 
Only to fall to earth when storms beat by. 



PITY. 

ODO not pity me because I gave 
My heart when lovely April with a gust 
Swept down the singing lanes like a cool wave, 
And do not pity me because I thrust 
Aside your love that once burned as a flame ; 
I was as thirsty as a windy flower 
That bares its bosom to the summer shower 
And to the unremembered winds that came. 
Pity me most for moments yet to be 
In the far years, when some day I shall turn 
Toward this strong path up to our little door 
And find it barred to all my ecstasy. 
No sound of your warm voice the winds have borne- 
Only the crying sea upon the shore. 



H 



EARTH MEMORY. 

THE earth remembers many an April blown 
To lyric beauty on a lovely hill, 
And many a golden hour she has known 
Comes back to haunt her with old wonder still. 
The earth remembers things she knew of yore, 
Summers that olden lovers have forgot, 
The way of silver rain upon a shore 
And little towns as fair as Camelot. 
The earth has moon-kissed beauty and to spare, 
While I weep long for love, a thing as frail 
As blue spills blown high in a sudden gale. 
The space of weeping is too great to bear ; 
Blow by a whirl of petalled blossoming — 
So I forget to weep with wondering. 



25 



PART III. 
OF MARINERS. 



SEA LONGING. 

You who are inland born know not the pain 
Of one who longs for grey dunes and the seas 
And sound of ebbing tide and windy rain 
And sea-mews crying down immensities. 
You who are inland born know not the urge 
Of rapt tides beating passionate and wild, 
Nor have you thrilled with wonder at the surge 
Of drifting water, wayward as a child. 
Impetuous I seek the eager sea. 
Imperious for joy and wind-blown spray; 
You, who are city beaten every day. 
What do you know of mirth and ecstasy ^ 
No thirsty wind has journeyed from the South — 
And laid a cool, wet finger on your mouth ! 



EXILED. 

I WILL remember to the very last 
The look of ships upon a quiet sea. 
Each windy sail, each spar and slender mast 
Must linger ever in my memory. 
I will remember hills and harbor ways 
And bright lagoons, though I long to forget ; 
Enchanted islands green as chrysoprase 
And lonely nights of rose and violet. 
Men who have known such splendid things as these 
Can never quite forget what they have learned ; 
Their thoughts must always be of secret seas 
Or of dim places where the moonlight burned. 
Always the sound of wind moans in their ears 
Or rush of waters under ghostly piers. 



29 



OF MARINERS. 

You who have known the changes of the sea 
And marked the tides and watched each wistful star; 
You who have known old ships, each mast and spar, 
Can only know what such things mean to me. 
You who have known the quiet mystery 
Of lovely islands in a glowing bay, 
Know what it is that haunts me night and day — 
A ghost of things that will not let me be. 
For they who know such things must always dream 
Of wind and tide and barques that they have known, 
Old schooners lying where the town lights gleam, 
A tall ship sailing by at dawn alone. 
They who have felt the wind upon their lips. 
Their speech must always be of sea or ships. 



OLD SHIPS. 

WHAT memories hang round about the spars 
Of splendid ships that come to port no more. 
What dreams of moonlit seas and lovely stars. 
What sound of waters on a wooden floor. 
Something remembered from an ancient day 
Comes back to haunt them when the evening falls, 
The cry of gleaming birds from far away, 
The moan of winds around their whitened walls. 
Something survives to make them wistful still 
Of silver harbors that they knew of yore. 
Of midnight quiet by a secret hill, 
Of shining lights upon a singing shore. 
Perchance, a ghostly gull against the sky 
Or a white sail at twilight flashing by. 



30 



LITTLE SONG. 

PUT a fence about my house 
It matters not to me, 
If from the highest window 
I cannot watch the sea. 

Scent the rooms with flowers, 
You may leave them bare 

If no salty sea wind 
Wanders there. 

Leave tall candles burning, 
A house can be a grave — 

If it's far from water 
And a breaking wave. 



THE SEA REMEMBERS. 

THE sea remembers things she knew of yore. 
Ships that have flowered on her lovely breast 
And secret islands, silvered by a shore. 
The cry of winds that mocked her with a jest. 
Remembered beauty comes to haunt her still, 
A ghostly sail blown by at evenfall, 
A singing bird above a starry hill — 
In haunted hours she remembers all. 
She cannot quite forget these wistful things, 
Barges that were her lovers in old days 
And golden argosies with lifted wings, 
And splendid schooners that sailed down her bays. 
Always she dreams of masts and wooden spars 
Or a tall ship that passed beneath the stars. 



31 



RUMORS. 

THERE is a rumor when each ship returns 
Of ghostly harbors that it touched at dawn, 
Of blue lagoons where lifted beauty burns, 
Shore lines towards which its wooden spars have gone. 
There is a rumor of disastrous days 
And nights by quiet islands near a town, 
Of wine-red hills, beyond the v/aterways 
Where both the moon and lovely stars looked down. 
Now do they dream beneath the April sky 
Of olden time and golden circumstance. 
Of ancient summers, ended like a dance. 
And mad adventures, now a memory. 
A secret flower lying on their breast 
The wind dropped down upon an old, old quest. 



LET ME LIE. 

IET me lie in an unremembered place 
^ With sorrel red about me and currants swaying ; 
Let the cool darkness fall upon my face — 
I only want to hear waves playing. 

I only ask this thing, sound of the sea, 

Clean water shifting under a granite ledge, 

Spindrift flying wildly by a tree. 

The sound of the wind among the sedge. 

Life must go on, to-morrow and to-morrow. 

Night following night and day following day ; 

Give me the one thing, Life, that I desire — 

The sound of wheeling gulls and waves at play. 



32 



PART IV. 
WHITE GLAMOUR. 



YOU CAME TO ME. 

You came to me with darkness as a lute 
On which you played strange melodies to woo me, 
You came with cymbals and wild timbrelling — 
With golden harmonies did you pursue me. 

Upon a pipe of lovely shivering reeds, 
You strung your arabesques like filigrees ; 

The notes were kisses blown to touch my lips 
As warm as rain upon pomegranate trees. 

You came to me with darkness as a lute, 
A twirl of tears to woo me and your eyes ; 

You brought me death and beauty, I was mute — 
Now do I hunger for you, O most wise. 



THE HOUSE OF DUST. 

WHEN this, our love, at last is buried low 
Beneath the flaming streets of a dark city 
And other hearts forget to scoff and pity 
Our lovely dream that burned as deep as woe. 
We shall arise again and gladly turn 
Down these far dew-drenched vales we tread to-day 
And wander where the rain-kissed boughs of May 
Shed streaming perfume over starry, fern. 
No one will see or guess that we are there. 
Who spoke their last farewell above our dust, 
When our hushed voices ended all surprise. 
And bitter silence for a moment thrust 
Dead waves across your beaut}' burning fair 
And petalled flowers over your sweet eyes. 



35 



THE NIGHTS REMEMBER. 

THE nights remember lovely things they knew, 
The words of lovers, tremulous and wise. 
And kisses blown and laughter and the beauty 
Of glowing eyes. 

The nights remember hours white with wonder, 
Lipped with red stars and strangely luminous ; 

Perchance, beloved, when the years have lengthened- 
They will remember us. 



UNBOUND. 

SHELTER me from loving you 
Lest it grow too great to bear. 
Put a silence to my song 

Lest it sing you everywhere. 

Let me be a common hour 

Or a careless word ; 
Pluck me, as you would a flower. 

Cage me, as you would a bird. 

For I praise you everywhere, 

Shout your wonder down the street ; 

Bind me, so I may not dare 
Leave you, sweet. 



36 



TALISMAN. 

I SHALL remember you in years to be, 
As June's first rose or as a golden bough, 
And all this beautv^ that we gather now 
Will be a song or a dear memory. 
I shall remember you as mists that blow 
Across reluctant fields where no sounds are 
And grief's dark night will wear a splendid star 
Because of the enchanted things I know. 
The peace of all your preciousness will make 
Each hour of pain an hour of loveliness, 
For some remembered call or faint caress 
Will startle me and make my soul awake. 
So I forget that woe is terrible — 
Remembering that love is beautiful. 



LITTLE DEATH. 

YOUR love died for me 
Like rain in a hollow, 
Suddenly there was no cry 
For me to follow. 

All that was dear and sweet 
Last, last December, 

Now is a little poem 
You can't remember. 

Your love died for me 
Like mist on a bough, 

Well, since I must forget — 
I will, somehow. 



37 



ROSEMARY. 

FOR the thought of you 
I'll wind up the clock, 
Sweep the floor 
And turn the lock. 

For the thought of you 

I'll put on a gown, 
A ribbon or two 

And go to town. 

For the thought of you 
I'll talk to strange folk 

And smile merrily — 

Though my heart's broke. 



MOONLIGHT MAGIC. 

MOONLIGHT is magic when a day is gone 
For shivering silver hangs upon each flower; 
Here where old lovers wandered once forlorn 
The trees are blown to beauty in an hour. 
Flowers and moonlight, these shall ever dwell 
A part of beauty on each secret hill, 
And whispered words that lovers dared not tell, 
Will be the birth of many a daffodil. 
Nor shall there be an ending to it all 
For always music shall drift down the air 
And shining petals tremble by a wall 
And olden loveliness pass unaware. 
We, who wear moonlight now like flower and grass. 
In later years will bring new things to pass. 



38 



VISION. 

I PUT my dream away, 
My dream of you ; 
A lonely little dream 
Of star and dew. 

Now you can only see 

Wild April skies 
When you look deep into 

My sober eyes. 

So sorrowfully sad 
Their look shall be — 

Your heart will never guess 
What made them see. 



SONG OF YOUNG LOVE. 

I MADE my love a palanquin 
From wood of Lebanon, 
The seats were all of purple 
And ivory from the dawn. 
For she who was to ride it 
Was fair to look upon. 

I made my love a palanquin, 

Inlaid with filigrees, 
The cushions were of river blue 

And color from the seas, 
And there were slaves to bear it 

Dark as pomegranate trees. 

I made my love a palanquin. 

The ceiling overhead 
Was silver and wild olive 

And ebony and red — 
I did not dream that it would be 

A place for young love dead. 

39 



PART V. 
OVERTONES. 



BURIED. 

DEEPER far than dead men lie 
Have I buried thoughts of you 
Underneath cool grasses 
And a night-green yew. 

Never shall the starlings wake 

Things that lie so deep ; 
Never shall the sunlight stir 

Thoughts asleep. 

Deeper far then dead men lie, 

Shaded and withdrawn, 
I have buried thoughts of you 

From another dawn. 



GLIMPSES. 

I SAW a star flame in the sky, 
I heard a wild bird sing 
And down where all the forest stirred 
Another answering. 

All suddenly I felt the gleam 
That made my faith revive — 

Ah God, it takes such simple things 
To keep the soul alive. 



43 



PASTORAL. 

THE air is thin and sweet 
With sounds I do not hear, 
Somewhere beauty blows 
As it does each year. 

Somewhere laughter calls 

Down a country lane, 
But I hear the shriek 

Of a noisy train. 

Somewhere lovers wait 
For maids undoubtedly, 

Wait for a word, a kiss, 
That belong to me. 



DEATH COMES. 

DEATH comes in a night. 
All that we cherish. 
Beauty and laughter 
Soon perish. 

Death comes in a day — 
House yourself well, 

Colin, Beatrice, 
Isobel. 



44 



OLD THINGS. 

SONGS that I have loved 
Come back to me, 
One cannot forget a bird 
Or the crying sea. 

Words that I have loved 
Give the heart no rest, 

Always they lie like flowers 
On the breast. 

Faces I have loved, 

Eyes that gave no sign, 
Did the soul behind them 

Yearn as much as mine '? 



MUSIC TIDES. 

TIDES of old music what do you sing 
Out in the darkness like a bird *? 
Listen and I zvill tell to you 
The unspeakable word. 

Tides of old music what do you cr}" 
Out where the warm stars flame '? 

Bend lew and I will vjhisper you 
The unspeakable name. 



45 



SURETY. 

Do not weep for her who lies 
In the silences, 
For she knew both youth and age 
And grew tired of these. 

Do not weep for she was glad 
To share the quiet earth, 

Who grew weary of such things 
As joy and mirth. 

Weep only for yourself 
Who pass unsatisfied — 

You have much to learn from her 
Who so gladly died. 



MISER. 

I HAVE seen many things. 
Too beautiful for words ; 
Twilights, tremulous with mist- 
Birds. 

I have heard music 

That was to me 
Soft as the clinging fingers 

Of the sea. 

I have known many things, 

Now I am old — 
I am a miser 

Counting my gold. 



46 



LIBRARY OF CONGR^^Sq 

ill If mill ill 11^, 

018 394 504 A \^J 



